


Tornado Season

by truc



Series: Superbatweek 2019 prompts [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Mercy, Bruce is a master manipulator, Dream World, Established Relationship, Honesty, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Or maybe that's just me?, Really weird humor, love and truth, superbatweek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-06-29 18:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19835707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truc/pseuds/truc
Summary: When Superman gets a plant as a birthday gift, he doesn't think it will force him to confront the truth about his relationship with his long-time vigilante boyfriend.Day 7 of the Superbat Week 2019 prompt : Dream/Nightmare





	1. The Truth

"... Rise and shine Smallville! Our morning special is specially designated to wake you up. I'm your host, Jim Hector Morrisson and you're listening to Y'r' all Radio at 87.4 am. Our weather network advised us today should be sunny with good visibility. Keep some sunscreen handy, folks, you're going to need it!"

"Clark," Lois muttered, "Kill the damn radio."

Clark blearily presses the off button of his alarm. Lois buries her head in the pillow. She mumbles something that sounds like a curse.

Clark rolls himself off the bed and looks at curtains who are barely keeping the morning light at bay.

Struggling, the man chooses a used pair of jeans and a clean shirt. He is already ticking off, in his head, all the things he needed to do; milk the cows; teach Eve how to repair the fence; prepare breakfast, lunch and supper; secure the property; water the fields.

Dressed, Clark yawns on his way downstairs. His back still aches from his foolish decision to pick up the hay all by himself because the tractor had broken down once again. He knew that, when Lois would learn he had been stupid enough to disobey her, she would give him her patented I-told-you-so look. Well, he thinks, nothing he can do to stop that now.

He scratches his back as he mixes the flour, salt and baking powder in a bowl. In another, he beats together butter, milk and eggs- Lois had put her foot down at the sugar part. Then, he distractedly mixes the liquid and dry ingredients: he gets a mostly consistent mix, the same his mother used to make him. He sets aside the mix to decide what his little princess would like as topping. Chocolate? Easy to whip a new recipe as long as he had some available.

It would go well with the strawberries they had picked up yesterday.

He looks at the wind prodding the weathervane into pointing West. Strong winds, but nothing special around here.

Clark leans to his cupboard to verify whether he had any chocolate left.

"Pa! What are you doing for breakfast today?"

Clark looks up at his sweet child eagerly tip-toeing behind him. He smiles at her energy and impatience.

"Pancakes."

"Oooh."

"Could you please wash up the strawberries, Eve? I'm thinking we deserve some for all of yesterday's hard work," Clark answers in an amused fashion. His dark-haired child is already washing the strawberries. He chuckles at her enthusiasm and puts on the 'Eat-or-die' frilly pink apron Lois got for his birthday. He wisely does not make any comments on Eve's subtle hand movement from the freshly washed strawberries to her mouth-she did pick them up after all, and, according to the family rules, she has rights all of them for the first pick of the season.

Clark heats the pan while preparing a cauldron for the chocolate sauce. He hums his favourite song until Eve interjects "Pa, stop! You can't sing to save your life."

The father smiles, "Doesn't matter how well you sing; as long as you enjoy singing. That's an important life lesson."

"I can't even recognize your song! That's just plain wrong," Eve whines.

Clark pretends to think. "Well, in that case, why don't you teach me to sing one of your songs?"

She emphatically shakes her head. "No way! Just put on the radio."

Clark flips his first pancakes. "Your Ma'd wake up only to destroy our radio player if we did."

Eve frowns as she starts to cut the strawberries. "...But it's so good!"

Clark snorts. "Remember what I always say?"

Eve rolls her eyes. "You can marry a city girl, but you can't take the city out of the girl."

"Bingo."

They continue to prepare breakfast in silence for a few minutes. "What's your plan for today, now that school has ended?" Clark finally asks.

Eve pushes all of the quartered strawberries with her knife into a bowl. "I've been thinking of assembling the chicken coop today. Think you can stay around a bit?"

Clark hums. "Sure. I just need to fix the fence and milk the cows. If you give me a hand, I'd say we can give your chicken coop a look before noon."

His gaze found the weathervane. It no longer pointed west at all.

"So..." Eve starts when Clark hurriedly opens the local radio channel.

"...Well, folks, that's all for our early, early morning show. Now for a quick reminder. The wind is sure picking up some speed up here! We received weather warnings to keep indoors. It seems possible a tornado is brewing. The risk is now set at minimum. I'll keep you updated on any changes..."

Clark swallows. It had been a while since tornadoes had hit Smallville. Last year had been lucky on that front.

Eve looks at him gravely. "Do we have to hide downstairs?"

Clark forces himself to reassure her. "Not yet, darling, but, we might have to. Would you please wake up your Ma?"

Eve ran up the stairs while Clark finished cooking his pancakes. The chocolate sauce was also done.

Eve skips down the stairs, her hair swaying as she did.

"Wanna eat, Eve?" Clark asks as he dries his hands after washing them.

"May I?" she eagerly asks.

He nods. Already, pancakes appear in Eve's plate. She dumps a generous amount of cut strawberries and hot chocolate sauce on top. Gingerly, she pierces her pancake and makes a mess of eating it.

"Why did you put on a white t-shirt?" Lois grumpily asks as she zombie-walks into the room. She and Clark exchange a "good morning."

Eve swallows her mouthful. "White is my favourite colour!"

Lois drops into a chair beside Clark. "I think I preferred it when it was red. Easier to wash out stains."

"When did you finish your article?" Clark asks, knowing she had ended up in bed quite late.

"A bit after three."

There was a lull in the conversation and Clark heard the radio droning on "...Tornado alert in the Southern Kansas State, especially alongside 45 Highway. Please keep yourself, your family members and your pets indoors..."

"Betsy!" Eve exclaims. "Where's Betsy?"

Clark looks at her with concern. "Isn't she hiding downstairs?"

Eve bit her lips and admitted: "I let her out yesterday."

"I'll look for her," Clark says as he removed the apron. "Lois, could you child lock all the cupboards?"

She lazily nods.

Outside, the sun bears down on Clark, but the wind is fresh and humid. Clark can almost physically feel the atmospherical distortion. In his mind, he can see the cold, humid air meeting dry air to produce a tornado. He better finds Betsy swiftly before the wind gets too strong.

"Betsy?" No answer. That was why Clark had tried to convince Eve to adopt a dog and not a cat. Normally, dogs at least answered at their names and looking for a cat on the farm property might take hours...

"Betsy."

This time, he hears a small meow. The wind starts picking up. He feels his shirt plastered to his skin. He lowers his head and continues in the direction he last heard the sound.

"Betsy?" he asks again. She's there, on a tractor's front tire, forgotten upright in the shed, looking down on him with all the dignity she can muster.

"Betsy, the wind is picking up. We aren't safe here." He offers her his arms to jump in. The cat snobs him. He looks around. There's no ladder and he does not have the time to look for it.

"Betsy," he begs, "Please come down. Eve is looking for you and it's not safe to be here during a tornado."

The cat sits on the tire and lazily gazes at him. Clark gazes back, trying to convey the urgency of the situation in his eyes. For a horrible moment, the cat does not move.

Then, she climbs down. Clark abruptly takes her in his arms and walks back towards the house. With the best of his abilities, he shields her from the harsh blast. Thankfully, there are only a few yards between the shed and the house. Finally, inside, he heads downstairs. Both Eve and Lois are anxiously waiting for him.

"Pa! You found her!" Eve rips Betsy from his grasp.

Lois sends a reassuring glance his way. "I secured what I could. Hopefully, it'll be enough."

Eve pets the reluctant cat. Despite the radio's droning on, they can hear the wind accelerating above.

"What's going to happen?" a worried Eve asks.

Clark sits down, flinching at his back's pain. He can see Lois's unimpressed look, which he, quite gracefully, ignores.

"We wait for it to pass," Clark says. "There's nothing more we can do."

At least, Eve doesn't seem scared of the howling wind.

"To pass time, we can play cards or tell stories."

The small girl nods. "Are we going to be okay?"

Lois takes her daughter's hand in her's. "Of course, Sweety. People rarely die in tornadoes nowadays."

"How come?"

Clark puts his arm around his daughter's delicate back. "Reporters, like your Ma, and weatherpersons give better warnings of incoming tornadoes; meaning, that people are better prepared and can hide in basements or get evacuated beforehand."

Eve leans into her Pa's hand. "So, we'll be okay?"

"We will, Eve. Each time we had to hid in our basement, my Pa used to say that tornadoes were reminders of the awesomeness and dangerousness of Mother Nature; reminders we're just tiny specks on Earth. Arrogance has often brought about the downfall of humans. It's important to remember to be humble."

Lois beams at her husband and, somehow, Clark feels content even with a possible tornado. For a while, they simply sit around, listening to the radio and discussing various details. Eve falls asleep between her parents. Gently, Clark picks her up and deposes her on the couch before laying a heavy blanket over her prone form. He can't help looking fondly at his little child, especially at her half-closed hands. She's much too fragile for this world.

"She's such a sweetheart, isn't she."

Clark swallows and nods.

"She does take after you, after all," Lois teases.

The farmer seems startled at the statement. Something about it was rubbing him the wrong way.

The rush of wind sounds stronger. Yet, somehow, Clark knows he has no place in the basement. An uneasiness creeps up his spine.

Lois touches his arm. "Clark? Are you okay?"

He knows something is wrong. Strawberries. Tornadoes. End of the school year. Betsy the cat. This house. Which look eerily like his parents' mixed with some of the elements from his apartment.

Everything's wrong.

Even pancakes.

His throat closes down.

"Clark? Talk to me."

Clark's cheeks grow wetter as he takes in his daughter for the last time. She's fake too. Lois too. Or at least this version of her.

It doesn't make it easier to say goodbye. Slowly, Clark falls to his knees to look at the inexistent daughter sleeping peacefully. He hugs her tight. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I want you to be true, but I can't delude myself any longer. It's time to shatter this lie."

Wind more powerful than any tornado tore his core, shattering this illusion into a thousand pieces, breaking part of his heart.

'Whoever did this will pay,' Clark sworn as he felt cold reality beneath his feet.

"Superman!" He heard someone cry.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Mongul. Clark knew then and there he was responsible. Nothing else mattered.

Angry, he threw himself at the villain, punches already raining on him. "You did this!"

Mongul fell under the fist storm. Clark didn't relent one bit his attack. He still needed to avenge his unborn daughter...

"Clark, stop," someone ordered him. Only two persons ever commanded him. He should trust either of their judgment right now. His was highly compromised.

Clark's clenched fists lowered. Bitter satisfaction grew in his chest as he took in the level of destruction he had wrecked on the villain.

The rest of the world was blurry. What did that mean?

Clark fell.

There were no dreams nor nightmares to catch him this time.


	2. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark wakes up.

Clark woke up with a start in the Watchtower's infirmary bed. Someone gave him a glass of water he gratefully swallowed. This was not a dream, he had to remind himself.

"Are you okay?"

Clark turned his gaze to his beside. Batman, his cowl still intact, was glancing at him from above; his jaw was clenched with tension, but his head was tilted in concern. Clark had missed his quiet intensity.

Superman nodded, avoiding Bruce's analytical eyes.

Batman sat in the chair. "What did you see?"

Clark felt his insides freeze with dread. Why did Bruce ask that question in such a casual tone? What did what he saw mean?

Thoughts melted into one another, highlighted with the most chilling fear has ever felt; if the dream was supposed to mean something, recounting it is a sure-fire way to lose Bruce forever. Bruce would- he wouldn't!-he totally would leave him if he thought he was doing him a favour. With this newborn certainty, he knew his best way out.

Clark clutched his forehead. "What happened?"

There was a long pause.

"Clark, what did you see?"

It was clear neither of them wanted to answer the other's question.

Clark raised his head. The eyes burning bright behind the cowl reminded him of the harsh resoluteness his lover was known for.

He observed the superhero beside his bed with his supersenses. This felt like a child's game. See who flinches first... except Clark would never lose a physical competition. However, this area, deceit and interrogation, was Bruce's specialty.

Still, Clark had the advantage in this situation. "What happened?"

If Bruce refused to respond, Clark would just ask someone else. Diana was sure to answer all of his questions; she wouldn't withhold information to get information. That was a Brucelesque tactic.

Batman removed his cowl. Bruce had always hated being cornered.

"You received a 'poisoned gift' from Mongul," Bruce answered. "Black Mercy is the plant's name."

"What does it do?"

"It traps you into your ideal dream world and sucks your energy."

Clark shut his mouth while he controlled his widening eyes' reaction. Bruce couldn't ever know.

He would leave him. Because of a stupid dream, he'd lose him forever. He could already imagine the betrayal in Bruce's face and ensuing blankness; the awkward 'we should break up' dance; the tears in his eyes; the cold distance between them; the quiet questions Superman couldn't block out ("Supes dumped Batman? What happened?"); even his Ma would ask why he had to dream of Lois when he had been so happy with Batman. Clark clenched his fist around the sheet. He couldn't lose Bruce. He loved him too much for that.

"That's what it was?" Clark casually asked. Bruce raised one eyebrow. The room felt so constricting, so suffocating...

Bruce gestured to his body and Clark looked down. He was naked behind a thin sheet that had pooled below his thighs. Blushing-even though his lover had definitively seen more than that before-, Clark pulled the sheet up. Bruce gently put his civilian clothes on the chair and waited outside the draped area in which Clark could change.

Clumsily, Clark dressed in the comfy sweatshirt and pants. Just when he finished, he heard Bruce speak, "I wasn't in your ideal world, was I?"

Clark closed his eyes. The silence thoroughly answered his lover's deduction.

"Clark, you can't continue to hide it to me. I already know you feel guilty."

Clark could feel his heart panic. He had to find a distraction- anything!- until he could feel more up to the task of lying to Bruce.

"Did you have children?"

The dread in Clark's chest infiltrates every bit of his limbs until he suddenly felt very tired. "Bruce, why don't you come back in?"

Bruce came back, his cowl back on. Clark's hands found the latches to remove it and the obstruction was gone. They were face to face, man to man, heart to heart.

Batman was always bigger than life, always strong enough for anything. 

But when Clark felt small and vulnerable, he only needed Bruce by his side, not Batman. He only wanted to melt into this human and be with him again... They'd only be entwined in the simplest way humans could be; together, at their simplest, they'd be love, forged by two lonely hearts through a life of hardship; together in their own little world: each other's burning suns. That's what he really wanted. Not Lois on a farm-although it would be funny to see how she took care of animals.

Clark hugged Bruce hard against his chest. Don't leave me. Don't leave me, he silently prayed.

"I want you, Bruce. That's all I've ever wanted," Clark admitted. Bruce snorted and untangled himself, "That's a lie and we both know it. What did you see?"

Clark swallowed. He might have won the first strike; he sure was losing the war. He had too much to lose...

"I was living with my parents, Bruce."

"Lie," Bruce instantly answered, arms crossed.

Clark's eyes blurred with irrational anger. "I don't want to say it!"

Bruce smirked. "At least, you're honest now."

"I'm always honest."

At that, Bruce laughed. "That's a nice lie you made everyone, except me, believe."

Clark felt insulted by his callousness. "I am honest."

Bruce raised his fingers at each of his points. "One, you revealed your civilian identity to the rest of the Justice League at the same time as me, the resident paranoid."

"I was being cautious!" Clark snarled.

Bruce shrugged in a way that implied he didn't entirely believe him. "Two, you lied to Lois for years, even during the time you were dating."

"I was protecting her!"

Unrelenting, Bruce continued: "Three, you keep lying to me about this dream of yours. Do you know what all of these situations have in common?"

"Besides the fact you're a hypocritical jerk?" Clark bit back, anger swallowing his guilt and shame.

Bruce levelled him with a serious gaze. "In each in these situations, you assured everyone involved you trusted them, but you didn't."

Clark blinked in surprise. "You think this is a trust issue?!?"

"Isn't it?"

"Isn't it more your problem?" Clark went on the aggressive stance.

Bruce seemed unbothered. "That's what they say. Although, it might just be the impression we are leaving. You 'seem' honest and optimistic and I quite frankly don't. Maybe that's the biggest difference between us: our public image."

Now, Clark felt insulted. "EXCUSE ME? You hide your wounds every second day of the week to Alfred and you think I don't trust enough everyone around me? I have to spy on you to get information!"

Bruce seemed almost amused (which infuriated Clark even further). "You spy on me? The gall." He even added 'The gall' in a British accent.

"Don't pretend you don't spy on everyone in the League!"

"So... You don't listen to everyone's heartbeat?"

Clark had to pause. "Well... Only in battle." Bruce slightly raised his eyebrow.

Clark winced and amended his statement. "Rarely out of the battlefield."

"Not even at night when you're thinking about horrible things and you just want to make sure they are really all alive?"

"Sometimes..." Bruce's grin had to be intentionally obnoxious; there was no way it was naturally that bad.

Clark hated the sensation of being bested in an argument, yet, here he was, letting Bruce get the better of him.

"Are you feeling better?" Bruce asked as his arms surrounded Clark in a bear hug. Its gentleness felt heartfelt. 

Clark had been played.

"...If that was your way of making your lover feel better, I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies."

"I punch them in the face."

Superman muttered, shifting himself even closer to Bruce's chest, "Why are you more merciful with them..."

Gauntleted hands massaged Clark's back. "What did you see, baby, that makes you this fearful?"

Clark's mouth grew dry. His hands clutched Bruce's chest in a way that made the armour creak dangerously. Was there a way to freeze this moment forever? Maybe Clark was selfish, but how could he make himself lose this? After all their fights? All their midnight confessions?

"I don't want to say."

A hand ruffled his hair. "It's hurting you, Clark." Clark pressed his eyes shut. This was Bruce admitting he didn't like to see him hurt. This was Bruce breaking Clark's heart with gentleness before Clark could break his.

"Bruce," Clark whined, "Promise me you won't freak out."

"I'll, at least, do better than what you are currently doing." The teasing was very light in his tone.

Clark sighed. "I dreamed I lived on a farm with Lois and a daughter Eve. Eve had a cat named Betsy. I made pancakes for them. We ate. There were tornado warnings. We hid in the basement. I told them one of my father's story. That's it."

Bruce mulled over the story. Clark felt hollow as he waited for the rejection that was sure to follow.

"How did you figure out it wasn't real?"

"The tornado," Clark admitted. "Smallville is in the tornado alley, but I knew I wasn't scared of it at all. That was unusual."

"Did you have sex with Lois?"

Clark's head whipped up and consternation took over his face. "No."

"Did you hold her passionately?"

"No."

"Were you comfortable with her around?"

"Yes."

"Did you wish to kiss her?"

"No."

Bruce shrugged. "I don't know why you were so worried."

"What do you mean?"

"From what I can gather, your ideal world is not about being in love with Lois."

Clark paused. His dread was slowly ebbing away. Through the whole conversation, Bruce's posture hadn't changed at all.

"It's not?"

"No."

"Then, what did it mean?"

"Clark, you yearn to be normal."

Realization flooded Clark. Of course. He had hidden in the basement because of a tornado. He had one child and a wife. He was a farmer like his father before him. The house looked partly like his parents' home.

In his dream, he had been completely normal.

It didn't mean he didn't love Bruce.

Clark's hands gripped Bruce's face and forced him to look in his eyes. There was no rejection in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, in this fic, Clark is about 99.8% gay. When Bruce mention that he lied to Lois while they were dating, it wasn't just about the Superman aspect of his life. He didn't want to admit, even to himself, that he was gay. Lois is the woman (except his mother) he was the most comfortable being around.


	3. Conciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Clark discuss/flirt/settle. 
> 
> Mature content ahead.

The two mouths melted together, frantic and desperate. Hands fared no better fate. Clark felt the hand snake under his sweatshirt while he snarled in frustrated at the cold armour blocking his prize.

A tongue slid in his mouth, gliding upon his: wet and insistent. His mouth surged forward filled with the brazen demand to authenticate both their needs and desires. He only drew back when Bruce's human capacity to breathe could no longer keep up.

Bruce breathed hard, a possessive spark in his eyes.

"The armour needs to go," Clark stated. Bruce breathlessly laughed while Clark pouted.

"What?"

Bruce stepped forward, the very picture of self-assured. "You're a _freak_."

Clark's stomach dropped. What?!?

The gauntleted hand slide down his nape. A shiver went down Clark's spine. Bruce's grin wasn't helping it go away.

Gently and self-assured, Bruce pushed Clark back on the bed. "You're a _freak_ ," he breathed in Clark's face. Another shiver travelled up his spine.

Deliberately, Bruce caged him between his armoured arms. "You're like the man who wakes up one morning and decides he wants to try something new. He looks into his closet. He doesn't want to wear anything in there. So," one of Bruce's hands slithered under Clark's sweatshirt; Clark's yelped at the cool sensation.

"He goes naked."

A second hand joined the first one under the sweatshirt.

"But that's still not enough for him."

A thumb found Clark's belly-button and pressed in. Clark arched.

"He's insatiable, you see." The whisper comes just beside his ear. He can sense Bruce's playful arousal.

"He wants to be gawked at." Something wet and flexible licked his ear. Clark's hands find Bruce's hair and they pulled him closer. Ever closer.

"He's a _freak_ ," Bruce delightfully reminded Clark. He felt himself burn in shame. "He takes his coat, a black wool one, something much too warm for the weather and he feels like himself for the very first time in his life."

The gauntlets found his thigh and they stay well above the waistline. Yearning for more flooded Clark's mind.

"More... I need more," he whimpered, hot and desperate. More Bruce. More sensations.

Bruce's head friction against his as he nodded. "Yes... That's right. He's hungry for more. So he walks out of his home, naked under the coat. It's hot... Very hot..."

Clark was getting pretty frustrated with the lack of follow-through with the promises. He pushed back into Bruce's grip. His lover smirked against his cheek.

"But, nobody even looks at him. They don't even notice he's a freak," the sleazy voice continued. Solemnly, Bruce added, "So, the thrill vanishes and he returns home. Disappointed. Sad. Lonely."

Clark ached up, trying to get more friction, more movement-more anything! "Bruce."

Bruce's hands caressed his pant's opening. "He puts his coat back on his hanger and removes his shoes."

"Bruce."

Bruce's nose reassuringly touched Clark's. "He's a freak and, suddenly, he's uncomfortable with the truth. He wants things nobody could give him. That's lonely."

Bruce leaned forward and kissed Clark's forehead chastely.

Although he wouldn't admit being touched by the gesture, Clark was officially annoyed. "...Did you just pin me to the bed to preach? I thought you at least had a punchline."

Bruce smiled against his forehead. "You're the one who wanted to date me. Deal with the consequences."

Clark had had enough. "Okay, that's it. Now, strip." Within a few moments, a very naked Bruce was pinned to the bed by a very naked Clark. He plundered the Bat's mouth. They ground their groins together until they both ejaculated. As they came down from their high, Clark declared, "You have the worst romantic timing ever."

Bruce smirked, hair dishevelled, decidedly at home. He leaned on his forearm. "You liked being called a _freak_."

Clark quivered. He had liked that.

All of his life he had wanted to be the same as the others. He had been called 'alien' or 'freak' or 'monster.' Always, barring Bruce, it had reverberated as an insult.

When Bruce had pronounced it, it was simply a characteristic of Clark's, an endearing aspect of his lover. It wasn't hard to remind himself that Bruce was a weirdo dressing up as a bat to fight villains at night. He was, therefore, an expert on freaks.

Maybe, one day, Clark's deepest dream would no longer be to be normal; maybe, one day, he wouldn't feel lonely being abnormal.

Right now, he was content to explore his abnormality with a fellow freak.

If that wasn't true love, Clark didn't know what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was basically taken from the premises of "Why would Clark be so desperate to be normal?" (because it seems that all Clark ever wishes for is to be normal)
> 
> Bruce's answer is quite simple: 
> 
> Clark only wants to be normal to be able to be who he is without being hurt. However, he's not normal. Pretending to be normal harms him. Clark wants to be normal because he wouldn't have to pretend he is if he were. It's sad when you think about it... 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Comments and kudos are always welcomed.
> 
> I managed to post 5 and 1/2 of the 7 prompts within the seven days! I'm pretty proud of myself.
> 
> I'll try to finish my "Monsters" fic and my Body Horror prompt story (which is barely started) within the next seven days.


End file.
